Fic: Someone To Rely On
Feb. 4th, 2015 08:45 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
s2309Title: Someone To Rely On
Characters (Pairings): Diana Berrigan, Neal Caffrey, Mozzie.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1190
Spoilers: 5x02, for Diana's plotline.
Warnings: Vague descriptions of assault, a little blood.
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: How Diana lost her hearing and found something far more precious.
Author's Note: Title from Somewhere Only We Know by Lily Allen (originally by Keane, but I'm listening to her version). Set post-S5 in a vague no-kidnapping AU.
For Day 3 of![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
halfamoon, for the prompt Lost and Found, Diana losing her hearing and finding something far more precious (why does this look like a c&p of my summary, MAYBE BECAUSE IT IS). Remember that little commentfic I promised to expand? This is that. Never say I never carry out any of my promises (I DON'T THO). Except research happened in between, so there are differences. And my writing style has gone wonky again (WHY CAN IT NEVER STAY STRAIGHT, I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I'M DOING ANYMORE), so yeah.
Which also makes this for the 'loss of hearing' square on anhc_bingo card Which has now gone into amnesty. Sigh. Anyhow.
Clearly, I'm in a weird mood.
I hope this gradually increasing word count thing isn't a holding pattern, or I may just be totally screwed.
"Something's wrong," Mozzie says when Neal picks up the phone.
"It's seven, Moz. If this is about your bees again, I'm still recovering from this last batch of stings, I'm not helping."
"It's not my bees, it's the Lady Suit. She hasn't returned from her jog, she's ten minutes late, the Suitlet is bawling, and I can't trace her phone because it's right here."
"Wait - how do you know this?"
"... I may or may not have taken to guarding the Sheagle's nest from morning till the arrival of the babysitter."
Neal closes his eyes and holds his forehead in one hand. "I'm on my way."
Diana stumbles out of the deserted alleyway where she came to. Home. She has to go home. Home is where her phone is. She left it on the table, she'd meant to pick it up, remembered when she was already halfway through her jog. She didn't turn back, obviously, going on was the faster way, maybe if she had...
The world is refusing to stay upright. She has to lean against the wall, she feels like she could pass out again any second, but home is so close by, home is where she can call for help, she stumbles forwards and makes her way home by memory, keeping her eyes half-shut.
Everything sounds off, but that's probably just the shock. She remembers being hit in the head, being left unconscious, and that's it. Just her, lying facedown in some dingy alleyway, too dazed to give chase or at least leave her mark on the guy, too aware of the pain to slip easily into unconsciousness.
That wasn't far. She opens her eyes completely - not as bad as she thought it might be - sees her trembling fingers on the door handle, pathetic, fumbles for her key, opens the door, and -
there are people in her house, and she can barely see them, but she runs for the drawer with her gun, points it in the direction of the human shapes and screams freeze and
hears nothing. Nothing.
She nearly drops her gun in shock, she just screamed, she can feel it in her throat, she didn't hear a single goddamned thing.
This can't be happening.
The people come closer. Neal and Moz. She knows them. They're safe, this isn't some kind of bizarre part two to the assault and battery (she thinks like a goddamned lawman) she can't tell if safe is a good thing or a bad thing, because that gives her leave to actually drop her gun this time and move backwards till she finds wall and slide down it, she can feel herself shaking in fear, this is not okay.
Neal comes closer, hands in the air, he crouches in front of her, he looks like he's approaching a war zone, she is not a war zone. That cuts through the haze of fear, lets loose anger, which is no better, really, but at least it's less pathetic. He backs up a step, good, good, but doesn't that make her more of a war zone? She sighs in frustration and lets her head fall forward to rest on her knees, this is too confusing for her aching head to deal with properly.
"Moz, call an ambulance," she hears through fifteen hundred layers of cotton wool.
She snaps her head up fast enough to make Neal back away another step. He keeps his hand up. "There's blood on your neck," he explains gently, and she knows that more because she's looking straight at him than because of the few fragments of sound that are
blood on her neck?
She touches it with a hand, it's wet, but that could just be sweat, no, red, red is blood, sweat is not red. She starts laughing maniacally, since when did 'sweat is not red' become a thought she pieces together actually, in real life? But her head starts hurting again and she has to stop.
Pity. The laughter was good, she didn't have to think while she was laughing, now she's free to fall down another looping train of thought.
Head trauma feels like drugs might. Winding up strands of your brain together that are completely unrelated.
Neal moved while she wasn't looking. He's crouched in front of her now, saying something, but she can't be bothered to figure out what, she wants to pass out again.
A few minutes later, the paramedics arrive, and with the help of what feels like morphine (she was right about the winding thing) she finally slips out of her brain and into a place that's a lot more peaceful.
"If you think I'm going to stick a shawl over my son's head just so you can be comfortable, you've got another one coming at you."
"I'm not uncomfortable-"
"It's called breastfeeding."
Neal raises his hands - he's been doing that a lot lately, but it seens to pacify her, so - and says, "I know. It's not an issue, it's just.. you look-" Neal cuts himself off just in time and sits down awkwardly on the chair near Diana's bed. "You can speak up a little, you're almost whispering."
"Better?"
"Yeah." Neal's eyes dart from her head to Theo back to her head.
"Which is worse?"
Neal raises an eyebrow.
"I can tell I look like shit."
"The white bandage isn't an improvement. And the hospital lights are making me look bad too, so it's not just you." Diana laughs a little, but Neal just looks on guiltily. "I wish there was something I could have done."
"There isn't." Diana's tone is not to be argued with. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Peter - it wasn't random, he came for me because I was lead on the Carter case, this-" she gestures to one of her ears, "-is coincidence, and it's much better than it was. If you want to help, you can find the bastard and lock him up."
"Really?" Neal grins.
Diana sighs. "Help Peter find him."
His grin drops abruptly. "That hurts."
"Deal with it."
"Okay." Neal shifts a little. "I... I can't shake that image of you, that morning. I've never seen you like that before."
"I wonder why," she comments dryly.
She thinks she did a neat job of covering the fear. He clearly doesn't. "If Mozzie hadn't been there-"
"I would have called the paramedics myself and gotten through the words somehow. I only broke down because you were there, doing everything."
"You can count on us, you know."
"If it makes you feel better, I'll put you on speed dial."
"It does. Thanks." He smiles softly. "I'm a light sleeper, you can call at pretty much any hour of night-"
"Don't push it."
When he leaves, she's suddenly certain that he planned this.
He just gave her another person she can count on like it was nothing. She doesn't know how to deal with that. But it leaves behind a warm fuzzy feeling, so hopefully, it's all good.
She never thought the family she cobbled together would have so many criminals in it. But that's okay. Theo can be a lawman too.
Characters (Pairings): Diana Berrigan, Neal Caffrey, Mozzie.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1190
Spoilers: 5x02, for Diana's plotline.
Warnings: Vague descriptions of assault, a little blood.
Disclaimer: White Collar is Jeff Eastin's brainchild. Not mine.
Summary: How Diana lost her hearing and found something far more precious.
Author's Note: Title from Somewhere Only We Know by Lily Allen (originally by Keane, but I'm listening to her version). Set post-S5 in a vague no-kidnapping AU.
For Day 3 of
halfamoon, for the prompt Lost and Found, Diana losing her hearing and finding something far more precious (why does this look like a c&p of my summary, MAYBE BECAUSE IT IS). Remember that little commentfic I promised to expand? This is that. Never say I never carry out any of my promises (I DON'T THO). Except research happened in between, so there are differences. And my writing style has gone wonky again (WHY CAN IT NEVER STAY STRAIGHT, I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT I'M DOING ANYMORE), so yeah.Which also makes this for the 'loss of hearing' square on an
hc_bingo card Which has now gone into amnesty. Sigh. Anyhow.Clearly, I'm in a weird mood.
I hope this gradually increasing word count thing isn't a holding pattern, or I may just be totally screwed.
"Something's wrong," Mozzie says when Neal picks up the phone.
"It's seven, Moz. If this is about your bees again, I'm still recovering from this last batch of stings, I'm not helping."
"It's not my bees, it's the Lady Suit. She hasn't returned from her jog, she's ten minutes late, the Suitlet is bawling, and I can't trace her phone because it's right here."
"Wait - how do you know this?"
"... I may or may not have taken to guarding the Sheagle's nest from morning till the arrival of the babysitter."
Neal closes his eyes and holds his forehead in one hand. "I'm on my way."
-:-
Diana stumbles out of the deserted alleyway where she came to. Home. She has to go home. Home is where her phone is. She left it on the table, she'd meant to pick it up, remembered when she was already halfway through her jog. She didn't turn back, obviously, going on was the faster way, maybe if she had...
The world is refusing to stay upright. She has to lean against the wall, she feels like she could pass out again any second, but home is so close by, home is where she can call for help, she stumbles forwards and makes her way home by memory, keeping her eyes half-shut.
Everything sounds off, but that's probably just the shock. She remembers being hit in the head, being left unconscious, and that's it. Just her, lying facedown in some dingy alleyway, too dazed to give chase or at least leave her mark on the guy, too aware of the pain to slip easily into unconsciousness.
That wasn't far. She opens her eyes completely - not as bad as she thought it might be - sees her trembling fingers on the door handle, pathetic, fumbles for her key, opens the door, and -
there are people in her house, and she can barely see them, but she runs for the drawer with her gun, points it in the direction of the human shapes and screams freeze and
hears nothing. Nothing.
She nearly drops her gun in shock, she just screamed, she can feel it in her throat, she didn't hear a single goddamned thing.
This can't be happening.
The people come closer. Neal and Moz. She knows them. They're safe, this isn't some kind of bizarre part two to the assault and battery (she thinks like a goddamned lawman) she can't tell if safe is a good thing or a bad thing, because that gives her leave to actually drop her gun this time and move backwards till she finds wall and slide down it, she can feel herself shaking in fear, this is not okay.
Neal comes closer, hands in the air, he crouches in front of her, he looks like he's approaching a war zone, she is not a war zone. That cuts through the haze of fear, lets loose anger, which is no better, really, but at least it's less pathetic. He backs up a step, good, good, but doesn't that make her more of a war zone? She sighs in frustration and lets her head fall forward to rest on her knees, this is too confusing for her aching head to deal with properly.
"Moz, call an ambulance," she hears through fifteen hundred layers of cotton wool.
She snaps her head up fast enough to make Neal back away another step. He keeps his hand up. "There's blood on your neck," he explains gently, and she knows that more because she's looking straight at him than because of the few fragments of sound that are
blood on her neck?
She touches it with a hand, it's wet, but that could just be sweat, no, red, red is blood, sweat is not red. She starts laughing maniacally, since when did 'sweat is not red' become a thought she pieces together actually, in real life? But her head starts hurting again and she has to stop.
Pity. The laughter was good, she didn't have to think while she was laughing, now she's free to fall down another looping train of thought.
Head trauma feels like drugs might. Winding up strands of your brain together that are completely unrelated.
Neal moved while she wasn't looking. He's crouched in front of her now, saying something, but she can't be bothered to figure out what, she wants to pass out again.
A few minutes later, the paramedics arrive, and with the help of what feels like morphine (she was right about the winding thing) she finally slips out of her brain and into a place that's a lot more peaceful.
-:-
"If you think I'm going to stick a shawl over my son's head just so you can be comfortable, you've got another one coming at you."
"I'm not uncomfortable-"
"It's called breastfeeding."
Neal raises his hands - he's been doing that a lot lately, but it seens to pacify her, so - and says, "I know. It's not an issue, it's just.. you look-" Neal cuts himself off just in time and sits down awkwardly on the chair near Diana's bed. "You can speak up a little, you're almost whispering."
"Better?"
"Yeah." Neal's eyes dart from her head to Theo back to her head.
"Which is worse?"
Neal raises an eyebrow.
"I can tell I look like shit."
"The white bandage isn't an improvement. And the hospital lights are making me look bad too, so it's not just you." Diana laughs a little, but Neal just looks on guiltily. "I wish there was something I could have done."
"There isn't." Diana's tone is not to be argued with. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Peter - it wasn't random, he came for me because I was lead on the Carter case, this-" she gestures to one of her ears, "-is coincidence, and it's much better than it was. If you want to help, you can find the bastard and lock him up."
"Really?" Neal grins.
Diana sighs. "Help Peter find him."
His grin drops abruptly. "That hurts."
"Deal with it."
"Okay." Neal shifts a little. "I... I can't shake that image of you, that morning. I've never seen you like that before."
"I wonder why," she comments dryly.
She thinks she did a neat job of covering the fear. He clearly doesn't. "If Mozzie hadn't been there-"
"I would have called the paramedics myself and gotten through the words somehow. I only broke down because you were there, doing everything."
"You can count on us, you know."
"If it makes you feel better, I'll put you on speed dial."
"It does. Thanks." He smiles softly. "I'm a light sleeper, you can call at pretty much any hour of night-"
"Don't push it."
When he leaves, she's suddenly certain that he planned this.
He just gave her another person she can count on like it was nothing. She doesn't know how to deal with that. But it leaves behind a warm fuzzy feeling, so hopefully, it's all good.
She never thought the family she cobbled together would have so many criminals in it. But that's okay. Theo can be a lawman too.
